Chieftain Doomhand stood at the edge of the camp, his massive frame silhouetted against the dying light of the evening sun. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and iron, a constant reminder of the ongoing war that consumed his people. His blackened gauntlets, from which he earned his name, clenched and unclenched as he gazed toward the distant horizon, deep in thought.

The ground beneath his feet rumbled faintly, and a ripple of unease swept through the camp. His sharp, battle-worn eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze toward the source of the disturbance. From where he stood, he could see the jagged ruins of Guldar’s chambers in the distance, where the warlock had been conducting his vile experiments.

A deafening explosion rocked the ground beneath him, and a column of bright light and debris shot up into the sky. Orcs around him scrambled to attention, murmuring in alarm, their weapons drawn as the shockwave of destruction reached the camp.

Doomhand’s lips curled into a snarl. “What is this madness?” he growled, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through the noise around him. His lieutenants, already rallying the troops, turned toward him, awaiting his command.

“Chieftain!” One of his scouts sprinted toward him, breathless, his face pale. “The warlock’s chambers—they’ve been destroyed!”

Doomhand’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “Destroyed? By what?” His voice was laced with impatience. Guldar had promised power, dark knowledge that would grant the orc clan the upper hand in the war. But now, it seemed that whatever the warlock had been meddling with had gone horribly wrong.

The scout hesitated, clearly struggling to find the words. “We… we don’t know. There was an explosion—massive. We think… the harpy, the one Guldar was experimenting on… he may be involved.”

Doomhand’s expression darkened at the mention of the harpy. That pathetic, winged creature was supposed to be nothing more than a test subject, a means to an end in Guldar’s twisted magical experiments. Yet somehow, it had become a threat.

“Send more scouts to the ruins,” Doomhand ordered, his voice cold and commanding. “I want answers. If that harpy is still alive, he won’t live for long.”

The orc chieftain’s mind churned as he watched the smoke rise higher, twisting ominously into the sky. He had been a warrior all his life, rising to power through sheer brutality and cunning. But magic—especially the kind Guldar dealt in—was dangerous and unpredictable. It was not the way of the orcs, but Doomhand had allowed it, believing it could bring his people the strength they needed.

But now it seemed that decision had backfired.

One of his trusted lieutenants, Grash, stepped forward, his hulking frame nearly as large as Doomhand’s. “Shall we mobilize the warriors, Chieftain? If the harpy’s loose, it may be heading for the outskirts.”

Doomhand clenched his gauntleted fist, his thoughts racing. He was no fool. Whatever Guldar had been playing with, it had clearly spiraled out of control. And if that harpy had somehow escaped with new powers, it could pose a threat to his leadership—especially if word spread among the clan of the warlock’s failure.

“No,” Doomhand said, his voice low and measured. “Not yet. We’ll see what the scouts report. If the harpy’s still alive, I’ll deal with it myself.” His eyes gleamed with a mixture of fury and grim determination. “Guldar’s failure will not be tolerated.”

The wind carried the distant echoes of the explosion, and Doomhand turned his back on the ruins, already formulating a plan. Whatever dark magic had been unleashed, it would not go unanswered. He would crush this threat before it had a chance to spread.

And if the harpy thought it could escape, it would soon learn the true meaning of fear.

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- - -

Each step felt heavier than the last, my vision blurring as exhaustion tugged at the edges of my consciousness. The stone walls, or what was left of them, seemed to twist and warp around me, like the magic had permanently scarred the very space itself.

I reached out to steady myself on a chunk of broken rock, my fingers brushing against it as I struggled to catch my breath. A sharp pain shot through my side, and I winced, feeling the bruises and burns from the explosion.

But I had to keep going.

The exit wasn’t far. I could see the faint glow of daylight filtering through the cracks in the ruins, beckoning me forward. I hadn’t seen the sky in so long—it felt like a lifetime ago.

I pushed forward, ignoring the pain, my mind racing with thoughts of escape. The warlock was probably dead—there was no way he survived that blast. But that didn’t mean I was safe. The orcs would come looking for me.

As I neared the opening, I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. What would I find outside? Had the orcs already realized what had happened? Were they waiting for me, ready to drag me back into the darkness?

I shook my head. No. I couldn’t afford to doubt myself now. I had survived the warlock's torture. I had harnessed the power of the void. I wasn’t the same weak, helpless prisoner anymore.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the light.

The outside world hit me like a shock to the system. The sky was as clear as day, white clouds swirling overhead of the bright blue sky, it was freedom. The cold wind whipped through my feathers, biting at my skin, but it was real. I was outside.

I took another step, my legs still shaky but holding me up. I had no idea where I would go, but anywhere was better than here.

As I walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I glanced around, my senses heightened by the void magic still coursing through me.

And then I saw them—scouts. Orcs, scattered across the landscape, their eyes scanning the area. They hadn’t seen me yet, but it was only a matter of time.

I ducked behind a nearby rock, my heart racing. I couldn’t fight them—not in this state. I needed to be smart, to avoid them until I was strong enough to face whatever came next.

...

As I slinked through the terrain, my mind raced. I needed a plan, somewhere to go, something to do. The orcs wouldn’t just give up because the warlock was gone.

They’d hunt me down. I can't leave to my cave due to them finding sooner or later and I can't leave the island since I don't have enough stamina to do reach the bottom.

I shake my head trying to think for a solution but nothing. I gritted my teeth and darted from one shadow to another, keeping low. My legs still felt weak, and every step sent a sharp pain through my ribs, but I pushed through it. Freedom was close. I could feel it.

I was so close to freedom, so close to escaping this hell. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder of how precarious my situation was. The void magic was still a beacon of hope, but I was exhausted. I needed to find a safe place to rest, to regroup, but I couldn’t afford to be seen.

I rounded a corner, my breath coming in ragged gasps, when I caught sight of something that made my blood run cold. There, in the distance, I saw a group of orcs—far larger and more menacing than any I had encountered before. Among them were two figures that stood out from the rest: One was the biggest orc I've ever seen, his massive frame imposing even from afar, and the warlock, still alive and looking more menacing than ever.

I ducked behind a large piece of debris, my mind racing. It seemed the warlock had survived the explosion—or at least managed to escape. The big orc which I suspect is the chieftain was speaking, his voice carrying on the wind, but I couldn’t make out the words from my hiding spot.

The warlock’s expression was a mix of fury and dark satisfaction. He seemed to be arguing with the chieftain, his hands gesturing wildly. The chieftain listened, his face a mask of cold determination.

Then, to my shock, The big orc pointed in my direction. I couldn’t hear the words, but the gesture was unmistakable. The warlock’s eyes narrowed, and he began to make his way toward my hiding spot.

I held my breath, watching as the warlock moved with a slow, deliberate pace, his dark robes billowing around him like a living shadow. The air crackled with dark magic, and I could feel the oppressive weight of his power even from a distance. The big orc remained behind, watching intently.

As the warlock approached, the tension was palpable. My instincts screamed at me to run, to escape while I still had the chance. But I knew I couldn’t outrun him—not with my current strength. I had to fight, to use the power I had gained from the Divine Light.

I could see warlock’s eyes glowing with malevolent energy, his staff crackling with dark runes. He was ready, eager for vengeance.

I took a deep breath, drawing on the remaining strength I had. The Void Magic hummed softly within me, a reminder of the power I wielded. The shadows around me seemed to respond, shifting and swirling as I prepared for what was to come.

The warlock stopped a few paces away, his gaze locking onto mine. The warlock raised his staff, the air around us growing heavy with magical energy. He spoke, his voice a low, menacing growl, but I couldn’t hear the words over the pounding of my heart.

The stage ready for a clash of powers that would determine my fate.